Pure
by yougonnapayforthatmango
Summary: A man: something Clary has wanted ever since she witnessed her mother's own instability. A man, not one of those boys in her sophomore class that would give her lingering stares, planning on taking what makes her pure. Pure, something she is in his eyes. Clace, rated M for future lemons.
1. Lolita

**Compared to my other stories, this one is a bit more dark. I got the idea when I was listening to Lana Del Rey's _Lolita_ and I just _had_ to make a fanfic of it! Though, the song was intended for the book, if anything. **

**I wasn't sure if I was going to make this a one-shot or a story; that's up for you to decide.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Warm was how the weatherman described the New York day. A week into her sophomore school year and she couldn't _wait_ for the experience to end. Her brother Jonathan would say otherwise as he mingled with the needy girls of her class. It made her sick, not the flirting part. Okay, _maybe_ the flirting part, but only because her brother was so _young_. Eighteen was an age that was too tender, supple, to her.

She wanted strong, sturdy, hair growing where it wasn't for the boys at school, as much as they liked to brag. Had her mother found out about this would she no longer go to a public school and a more _refined_ catholic school.

What was wrong with wanting _man_ in her life?

"Sweetheart, eat your toast." Jocelyn chided as Clary stared blankly at the kitchen television. Clary smiled at her, looking at the toast with a small grimace before popping the crisped bread into her mouth.

"You gonna date a boy this year or come out of the closet? Huh Sis?" Jonathan teased, making Clary wished she hadn't eaten the toast and instead thrown it at his head.

"Jonathan!" Their mother cried out, shaking her head at him before returning and making sure her briefcase was filled with her office necessities.

"Well you two, I gotta get going." Jocelyn said, walking over to kiss them both on the cheek. "I'll see you after work, love you." She finished.

"Love you too." They both muttered through their filled mouths. Clary waited till she could hear her mother's car start before standing up from her seat and walking across the kitchen towards the staircase.

"Where are you going? Aren't you going to finish your meal?" Jonathan asked her, gesturing towards the almost untouched eggs and bacon. Clary grimaced at how unhealthy it was, preferring to eat something more nature-based. Surely there was something better that Jocelyn had packed for her for lunch.

"Getting ready." Clary answered before taking the stairs quickly, almost losing her footing on some of steps. At the foot of the staircase, she turned towards her room, smiling at the pink color she'd painted it. If a stranger ever saw it, they would have assumed that she was a little, innocent girl.

Which was exactly what she wanted them to think.

Shutting her door, she stripped from the jeans and frilly shirt and reached for something more... _fitting_. Something that revealed what a sweet girl she really was. What she'd always wanted others to see. The white babydoll dress might have been as provocative as langerie. The playful vibe of it was what she would use to her advantage this year.

She eyed herself in the mirror, loving how puberty had brought out the woman in her but hadn't cancelled out her baby face. What she'd eventually settled on were leather sandals that added to her appearance. Her hair was fire burning down the pure fabric of the dress, something she was sure to attract people. Or lingering stares; either which were fine to her.

Now, of course, makeup was to not be heavy, so she grabbed some red lipstick and applied it to her pale lips, admiring the color on her cream-colored skin. Mascara, all though not too much, made her coppery lashes reach out and appear long and pretty. Since the sun was shining out through her window, Clary popped on her favorite pair of sunglasses that just so happened to be in the shape of hearts.

" _Now_ I'm ready." Clary smiled to herself before heading out the room. There wasn't a need to carry her book bag, as she'd already taken it and left it in her locker the day before. Jonathan had probably gone to school by taking a taxi. She, however, loved to walk and meet new people. Not alone though, her friend Isabelle would tag along with her.

Isabelle, someone who was even prettier than Clary. The idea didn't upset Clary though, as Isabelle loved to dress mature. Clary didn't want to meet someone who was into the scantily dressed girls of New York. Those who adored that might as well have been hormonal teenagers she cared nothing for. Clary was _pure_ , and would surely dress as such until proven otherwise. Mature men liked that sort of thing, or at least that's what Clary's aunt had told her. Though, Amatis had faith where Clary didn't. Faith that she gave her husband Stephan after he'd ignored the stares of tube tops and high heels and instead fell in love with the plainly-dressed Amatis.

No. The right _man_ wouldn't fall for such tempting things. The right man was _strong_ , and would prove that to her when she'd finally find him.

* * *

She was walking to school, hands in her pocket as she envisioned what the feeling of being a junior would be like. Would she feel powerful? Prettier? More mature, more… risky? Of course, as she'd barely turned sixteen with the coming of the school year, she couldn't help but dream of the dangerous seventeen year old she wanted to be. Oh how the older men would stare at her! No, she didn't care much for the baby-faced boys at her school, as much as the other girls did.

But then again, she wasn't like other girls.

"You're quiet. Why are you quiet?" Isabelle asked.

"Am I?" Clary wondered with a smile.

"Yeah, you are. I was just talking about how different this year was going to be since we're no longer freshman." Isabelle recalled. Clary couldn't agree with her more. If only Isabelle knew of her friends wishes… _desires_.

"Think this is the year we find _the one?_ " Isabelle asked Clary, who'd been busy returning the stares of the men they passed. With each gentle breeze the air brought, the more her dress would swirl around her legs, making some-if not most- jaws drop.

"Boy do I hope it is." She said, dipping into her fantasies of a muscular, stubble-faced man. Her eyes skimmed down the sidewalks, looking not only at the people, but the world around her. The flowers that grew outside some of the stores were lovely, and even better were the rich smell of pastries that bakers had just taken out of the oven. It was paradise to her.

"You know, I thought Simon would be walking with us." Isabelle commented, looking down at her high heels to hide the fact that she was blushing.

"Oh Isabelle, can you be more obvious?" Clary teased, nudging her friend with her shoulder and watching as the taller girl held back a grin.

"I am not _obvious_!" Isabelle insisted, staring off at the slowly-passing clouds that traveled up in the sky.

"If you want to know if he likes you, just admit it and I'll tell you." Clary offered her, watching as Isabelle bit her teeth and weighted the embarrassment of telling her that she liked her other best friend. One that she insisted she hadn't liked up until now.

"I _might_ think that he's sort… cute." Isabelle huffed, crossing her arms. The smile that broke out on Clary's face reflected in her own as she planned to set her two friends together. Sure, she didn't like the idea of someone Simon's age, but seeing Isabelle with him was almost pleasant to her. To cause such happiness to another person was a dream that she would make come true.

"So will you talk to him?" Isabelle asked Clary.

"Yeah, if you want me to?" She responded.

"Of course I want you to! Just _don't_ let him know that I asked you about it!" Isabelle ordered. If Clary did mention the affection Simon had for her friend, he was sure to be suspicious, and most definitely ask her what brought it up.

"Sure, but he's gonna wanna know why I brought it up." She noted.

"Do you think so?" Isabelle worried, beginning to chew her lip again. A few people stared at her friend, but Clary didn't mind. They only helped her cross off a few more names that she didn't even consider. Not that she _knew_ their names, but surely their faces were removed from her consideration.

"Whatever, he'll still want to be with you. Maybe the idea of you being all in charge will turn him on?" Clary winked at Isabelle who began to laugh at the idea of being in charge. The fact was, Isabelle was a strong girl, stronger than Clary. If Clary was strong at all…

"I hope you're right." There was a slight threat in her sentence, but Clary didn't press on about it. "What about you?" She asked her.

"What about me?" Clary questioned with lidded eyes.

"Are there any boys at school that peak your interest?" Isabelle answered. The thought of being with someone who was… _inexperienced,_ or so she assumed with the teenaged-faces of all the boys that stared at horrified Clary. What was the point of saving something as precious as her virginity when it would be wasted on a terrible experience?

"Would you believe me if I said I wasn't interested?" Clary asked her.

"Uh, _no_. Have you even _seen_ what the school has to offer?" She gawked. "I mean, I know there are some assholes, but what school doesn't have to offer that?" She questioned. "Anyways, don't tell me you haven't dreamed of being with a guy as toned and fabulous as Sebastian Verlac. He's H-O-T _hot_." Isabelle finished with a sizzle.

Clary grimaced at her, stifling a gag as they continued on with their walk.

"No, I haven't." She said in a stern tone.

"Wow, I have to admit that that's impressive of you to be able to resist his abs. And boy… when I say abs, I mean _abs_." Her sentence trailed off as she must've envisioned the supposed _abs_ of Sebastian Verlac. Maybe if Clary were different would she actually want a boy like him. Emphasis on _boy_. Sebastian was a smooth-faced boy who had no business around a girl like Clary. His moral filth was sure to impair her purity that she'd kept so clean.

No, she wouldn't give that to him, or _any_ of his friends.

"I thought you liked Simon?" Clary blurted after listening to Isabelle ramble on and on about Sebastian Verlac, a boy she was not tired of hearing.

"I do," and Clary smiled at that, fooling her into admitting it for the first and probably final time. "Hey! Don't you laugh at me! I'm sure there's some boy you're head over heels for, so leave me to my emotional freedom!" Isabelle protested. "But Sebastian is just a thought, a fantasy that wouldn't do more than get me all riled up. Yes he has a pretty face, and body, hair, smile-"

" _Isabelle_ ," Clary groaned, snapping her out of her ongoing sentence.

"Sorry," she grinned sheepishly, running a hand through her dark hair. "As I was saying. He has a pretty face, but that's it. Simon is the whole package… mm… package."

And that's when Clary decided it was best to pretend and listen to her friend.

If she'd spent the rest of her walk staring at her feet, Clary wouldn't have seen the most _gorgeous_ face that she'd ever, _ever_ lay eyes on. He was her reason for walking, as he was there almost everyday of the week waiting for his eventual ride to work.

He was leaning against a brick building, a gray suit hugging his very apparent muscles. His hair was a color that she hadn't seen, along with his eyes, which was _golden_. Yes, golden, like she'd imagine he tasted. Liquid gold. His skin was just as tanned, or what she could see past his suit. Scattered across his chin was the most perfect layer of stubble that matched his seemingly perfect appearance.

In one hand did he carry a suitcase, and the other, well, in the other was he holding a phone and talking on it. From the constant eye rolling, it was probably work-related. With her heart sunglasses on, she was sure that he couldn't see her, but he looked at her anyway as she walked past him. Probably hoping to see past what was hidden under her babydoll dress. Such naughty thoughts towards a girl as _pure_ as her.

A few paces ahead of him was a flower shop, showing their most lavish and colorful flowers in front as if they were nothing. Clary muttered something to Isabelle about the roses, and stopped to lean in and smell them. She slid her heart sunglasses down her nose so that she could see him without its light-manipulation. With his eyes on her, she took it to her advantage and brushed her lips against the soft petals, possible allowing him to see down her dress. He visibly swallowed hard as she gazed at him and in that moment she knew that she had him. Or whatever he was willing to give.

"Geez Clary, watch your dress!" Isabelle hissed, pulling Calry by the arm until she was standing. Her gaze lingered on the man as he stared back, wanting to hold it forever but having to submit to her pestering friend.

"What was that for?" Clary asked with slight annoyance.

"Are you kidding? Some grown man could look down your shirt you Lolita!" Isabelle scoffed. A few seconds passed before they were back to talking as they were about the boys at school, or rather Isabelle was. Hopefully, tomorrow, Isabelle would be right about a man, specifically _that_ man, looking down her shirt.

* * *

 **AN: I'm _pretty_ sure you all know who the golden-haired fellow was**

 **So how was that for a first chapter, or one-shot if that's what it turns out to be. In this fanfic, Clary's a bit of a Lolita, as Isabelle stated. If they _are_ next chapters, they will surely focus on her trying to get Jace and then on. **

**Leave your comments in the reviews and let me know what you think!**


	2. Cigarettes & Social Gatherings

**Playlist:**

 **Shower- _Florida Kilos_ by _Lana Del Rey_**

 **An Untouched Face- _Primadonna_ by _Marina & The Diamonds_**

 **Cigarette- _Do I Wanna Know_ by _The Arctic Monkeys_**

 **A Social Gatherings- _No Shows_ by _Gerard Way_**

* * *

 **AN: I forgot to mention in the last chapter, but in this story Jace is 28 and Clary is 16**

 **Hope you enjoy the second chapter!**

* * *

The shower water was warm, pleasant as it hit her back softly. Though it was certainly early in the morning, Clary hadn't bothered to look at the clock when she arose. Perhaps it was the noise of the front door shutting- signaling her mother had gone to work- that had woken Clary up from her seemingly perfect slumber. With the sun just beginning to rise, she supposed she'd have a good hour before Jonathan was up and annoying her with his immature attitude that only a boy could possess.

She ran a hand through her heavy hair, working her fingers through the water-flattened hair and loving the way it blanketed over her hand. Her hair was a dark, almost brown color when it was wet. The color the maroon lipstick she'd hidden in her bedside drawer. It wasn't that she was scared of her mother stumbling upon it, but it would make them question what she needed it for. Or rather, _who_ she needed it for.

But of course, there was only one person she needed it for. And she'd be seeing him today, again. And, like she'd done for the past week, be doing nothing but teasing him with her youth. She already had her outfit planned in her head- a blue strap ruffle floral pleated dress that had been a gift from Amatis. It worked wonders for her hair's appearance and made her milky thighs seem a bit more toned and less skinny.

Grabbing the bar of soap, she massaged said thighs until they were lathered and smelled of strawberries. It wasn't just for the fact that her hair matched the colors of the fruit, but rather because they were sweet, like she'd wanted everyone to see her as. Technically, she was sweet, but her mind was a tainted shadow that yearned to pull in a bright- _golden_ \- light such as the man she'd been longing for.

Reaching out and turning the nozzle, the shower turned off with a thud. Her hands grasped at the rose-patterned towel she'd set out for herself. The mirror that was across from her had condensation blocking her view of herself. Honestly, she didn't like looking at her own wet hair clinging to her milky skin, but her skin was absolutely lovely when it was warmed.

"I owe Isabelle." Clary muttered as she walked into her room. Isabelle had asked her to walk to her house, which was in the pathway that led her to the golden-haired angel. Otherwise, Clary would have taken a taxi. It was a total leap that the man was going to be there today. After all, she'd only seen him on the weekdays for the past five days. It was a hail mary to think he'd work on a saturday.

Taking a seat at her vanity, she scanned what what she had to offer. She could try on the pink lipstick that Luke had bought her in an attempt to bond with is step-daughter. It was almost funny that he'd assumed she'd go for the stunning hot pink. Well, there was no shame in trying. And it _did_ have a girlish quality to its color.

She picked up the colored stick, bringing it to her lips and applying a small amount to test it out. The mirror showed that as startling as it was on her skin, it was also very pretty with the ivory. Spreading her lips wide, she added more pressure as she applied the lipstick. Not only was she to thank Isabelle, but now Luke.

With a flick of a brush, she spread blush on her cheek bones. Mascara was simply put on and then came the hard part: her hair. The wild locks were pretty to some and matted to others. Clary eyed the straightener at that rested at the edge of her vanity, biting her lip as she debated to go for the more subdued look. A shake of her head and settled for just putting a conditioner in her hair that would take away the frizz element.

Clary turned her head to look at the dress. It looked like it had been pulled from the ninetys with its playful appearance; like the babydoll dress. With a tired sigh, she stood up and let the towel fall from her breast, the air hitting her instantly. Secretly did she wish that the man was watching her as she walked around her room in her birthday suit. Wished that he'd somehow find her and press her against a wall and take her like the strong man he was.

A devious smile played at her lips as she slipped the fabric over her thighs and covered the tender skin of her breast. Her bedroom showed exactly what she was going for; a sweet, innocent girl.

"The sweetest." Clary nodded before grabbing a pair of ballet flats and sliding her feet into them. The sun was already beginning to shine through her thick curtains of her bedroom window. Any minute now would her brother's alarm set off and he'd be bounding across the house to annoy her. Typical.

And just as she guess- accurate at that- her brother pushed open her door, his hands weaved through her hair as he tried to blink the energy back into his eyes.

"Why are you up so early? It's the weekend?" Jonathan groaned, scratching his stomach that was bare without a shirt.

"Why are _you_ up? Don't you usually sleep in or something?" Clary asked him with an equal amount of confusion.

"Just because we have friday off doesn't mean my body knows it. But you, what's your excuse? Why are you getting dressed and stuff?" He grumbled. Clary shrugged at him, giving her dress a small twirl as she looked in the mirror, barely acknowledging her brother's presence. She didn't have to see him to know that he was annoyed with her chipper attitude.

"You meeting someone from school? I did that stuff when _I_ was sixteen." Jonathan questioned, though through his curiosity could she detect a faint amount of protectiveness that only he could have for her.

"Ew, no." Clary answered with a scrunch of her button nose. Jonathan furrowed his brows at her disgust, probably replaying their sentence to see what was so revolting to her.

"Don't like the boys at school?" He asked.

"Do _you_?" She quipped. He shook his head at her before grabbing at the door knob and preparing himself to leave.

"And I better not see you tonight." Jonathan snapped before shutting the door on her. She didn't know what he meant by that. Of course he'd see her! _They did live together_. Or had he forgotten that already in his needless exhaustion. A quick smack of her lips and she was following him down the steps and thinking of what her mother was preparing them for breakfast.

"Mom?" She said once she'd stepped on the tile floor. Jocelyn was no where to be seen, and she looked at the calendar that was posted on the fridge only to realize that today she was traveling with her work. Being an art dealer sounded fun, but Clary would much rather be spending her adulthood relaxing in her backyard and working to tan her creamy legs.

Opening the fridge, she saw nothing but ingredients in a meal she had no focus to make. So she pivoted and made her way to the door, almost forgetting the fact that her brother would be confused that she was gone. She was fairly sure he'd forgotten their morning conversation anyway.

"Jonathan?' She said clearly from the foot of the stairs.

No answer.

"Jonathan!" Clary huffed a little louder. With no answer as her conclusion, she grew frustrated and opted to yell at him.

"Jonathan Christopher!" She finally snapped. A quick response was him throwing open his door and looking down at her with annoyance.

"What it is? What do you _want_?!" He growled. Behind him did she see a small hand press against the back of his shoulder, making Clary smile. She recognised the painted nails and her brother looked at her with great horror. As if she'd tell their mother who wanted nothing more than to find a reason to ground him for his senior year.

"Ah, Seelie, what a pleasant surprise." Clary grinned at the redhead that hid behind her brother. Her brother gave her a warning look before slamming the door shut behind him and returning to whatever it was that he and the varsity cheerleader were doing.

"I'm going to Isabelle's!" Clary chuckled before grasping at the front door and leaving her remaining family.

* * *

"Coffee, black." Clary told the blonde waitress. She nodded at her before going behind the counter and preparing the drink. Taki's seemed to be busy with serving morning refreshments lately, and as a shock, Clary was able to grab a warm drink before the swarm of various adults on their way to a time-consuming job.

A jar of warm-colored suckers were placed next to her, so she slipped a quarter into the makeshift piggy bank and plucked a red heart out, pulling the wrapper from the treat and engulfing it between her lips.

Perfume was thick in the air, but just as she was getting used to the smell could she pick up another, more potent scent. It made her nose scrunch up and her eyes water, but her heart might as well have been composed of a different moral than the senses it pumped. The smell of a cigarette brought forth age, and with age brough… well; she turned around to see who was blowing the thick plumes into the atmosphere to see what might be considered a miracle.

Her heart thudded against her chest and she had to grip the counter of the diner to avoid falling down in shock. Standing there, a burning paper between his teeth and his waves set in a formal manner was the _man_ she least expected. The suit he wore was black, and it brought out the darker features of his face such as his cheekbones and the shadows cast upon by his straight, long lashes.

"Impossible." She wanted to gasp aloud, but settled for flipping her tame curls around her shoulder and staring at him with want. A want that had boiling inside her stomach for what seemed like an eternity. The sucker between her lips was wearing thin as she sucked harder the longer she stared at him.

Smoking wasn't necessarily a charm to her, though in all the movies of bad boys and innocent girls, there was always a tan and white object burning between the man's full lips. But he was no bad boy. No, he was much, _much_ worse. A bad boy had restrictions, a bad boy had weaknesses. Him? There didn't appear to be such a thing with his wealthy attire and presence that just _emanated_ money.

When his gaze flicked over to her and he plucked the cigarette from between his white teeth, she nearly burst into the flames of immorality. At first, it was like he didn't mind her presence, but as he skimmed over the room again, his eyes bugged out like the one's of a few dolls she still possessed from her childhood. _Not that she still played with dolls-_

She almost missed it. Almost missed the presumed twitch of his left eyelid. Replaying the action in her head and knowing that he was still gazing at her, she realized he'd winked at her. Clary's frilly heart thudded harder against her ribs as she tried to contain the urge to pounce on him like she wished he'd do to her.

If only.

He crushed the cigarette to the floor just as her name was called. Clary tore her gaze from him and reached for the coffee the waitress was handing her, not caring for it anymore. She was wide awake. As awake as any teenager could be at such a sunlit hour.

Pulling the sucker from her tongue's hold on it, she watched as his eyes darkened to her advantage. His fancy shoes clicked on the cheap floor as he made his way to her, or the counter, it didn't matter as long she was in his presence or vice versa.

" _Clary_ ," he said, testing the name out on his tongue without caring that she was standing next to him "I like it, short and sweet, like you." He grinned deviously despite the terse compliment. Clary looked at him with vague interest, screaming at her emotions to remain in control of themselves. She crushed the sucker between her lips with an audible crack before pulling the stick out of her mouth and tossing it in a nearby trash bin.

"I'm sorry, have I met you before?" She asked innocently. His smile faltered slightly before returning to its usual state.

"Actually, you might have, though I don't believe we're on a first name basis." He answered. The skin of her neck heated at just the thought of learning his name. Was it incredible? Sexy? Masculine?

"Jace Herondale, your coffee." The waitress smiled, handing him the styrofoam cup and reluctantly turning her attention to the waiting customers. Clary played the name over her tongue, wondering if it were just a nickname or his actual name.

"Well, what do you think?" He questioned. She rolled her eyes to him, staring at him with a burning interest, never having known she'd get the chance to talk to him. And yet, here she was, playing hardball like Isabelle had taught her to do.

"I like it, though, I'm sure I'd have no say if I didn't." She shrugged, sipping at the lid of her coffee, not observing his reaction.

"You like it, huh?" He repeated. "Could the same be said for my number?" He said in a noticeably languid voice, making her shiver in surprise and desire. She chewed on her lip, wondering just how she'd keep from calling him the instant he wrote his number down.

"Forward, aren't we?" She teased, sipping her coffee once more before turning and giving him her full attention.

"Usually I'm not, I can assure you of that." He said in a smug tone and vocabulary like none of the boys that went to school along with her.

"Really? And how would I know this? How would I know you're not lying to me in order to get in my pants?" She said with a sultry tone. Jace almost looked taken aback by her words, not expecting such things to come from the mouth of someone who dressed like she were going to Sunday school. Clary promised herself that if she ever got to be so close with him, that words wouldn't be the _only_ thing spilling from her lips.

"I guess you'll just have to have a little faith in me." He winked. Clary practically melted at his crooked grin, wanting to touch her fingers to his lips and feel the soft texture under them.

"I'm surprised, Herondale. For you have made a believer out of me."

* * *

"A party? Really Isabelle?" Clary chuckled. Isabelle raised her hands in defense, as if Clary were to swing at her.

"No, no, no. Don't see it as a party, per say, but a _social gathering_." She amended. Clary stifled a string of laughter before staring her best friend in the eye.

"Social gathering? Isabelle we're _sixteen_!" She scoffed with an interested grin, waiting to see what else the dark-haired girl had to say. _It really wasn't her place to say what a sixteen year old should or shouldn't be doing with her trying to seduce older men..._

They were at Isabelle's house, sitting on her bed with magazines scattered across the blanket. Some of them were opened, as both girls had been reading them before the topic of a party was brought up.

"Whatever, call it a party if you want." Isabelle surrendered.

"So who's throwing this social gathering?" Clary asked with a rising suspicion. Isabelle gnawed on one of her manicured fingertips and instantly she knew who was throwing the bash. "No, absolutely _not_." Clary snapped.

"Oh please will you come?! I swear you don't have to stay for that long but when can you say that we'll get the next friday off? Come on Clary! He's a _junior_! When will we get invited to an upperclassmen party?!" She argued with pleading eyes.

"I don't know, Isabelle. I'm not into hanging around the school royalty. Or so they call themselves." Clary debated.

"It's not school royalty, I swear. Even Eric will be there!" Isabelle responded.

"But Eric is a junior too. It's like, obligation." She scoffed. Isabelle was basically on her knees at this point, her hands clasped together in prayer as she stared at her redheaded friend.

"If you do this for me, I'll do something for you too." Isabelle vowed, crossing her heart but making Clary laugh in the same moment.

"What could you possibly do for me? I don't know if you've heard, but I don't swing that way." Isabelle scrunched her nose at Clary's words and rolled her eyes at the thought of being with her best friend.

"Not like that, dummy. Oh! I'll buy us coffee or be your wingwoman or _anything_." She practically begged. Clary had to admit that it was working, no one could resist Isabelle lightwood. And what Clary was about to say proved just that.

"Fine, I'll go to your stupid party."

* * *

 **AN: Now they're on a first name basis! And just who is throwing this party? I'm sure most of you already know**


	3. Wrong Number

**Getting Ready- Crystalline Green by Goldfrapp**

 **Funny Freedom- The Mother We Share by CHVRCHES**

 **Alcoholic Regret- Teen Idle by Marina & The Diamonds**

 **Walk Away- Ride by Lana Del Rey**

 **Hero- Terminal (Acoustic) by Echosmith**

* * *

"Really? Come on let me at least do your hair." Isabelle insisted, grabbing Clary and sitting her down on the vanity chair. The sky was beginning to fall, and with the party looming over her head, Clary began to gnaw on her lips in worry. There were rumours amongst the newly sophomores of Verlac parties, but she hoped they were rumours and nothing more. What had passed between ears was the fact that not only did people pass around beer, but in those beers were traces of… _sedatives_.

"A bun? Doesn't it look a little fancy for the party?" Clary asked, already beginning to shake the pins and rubber bands out of her wavy hair. Isabelle scoffed as she watched her creation come undone, but Clary didn't bother. There were a few outfits thrown down on the bed as they had tried several on. Isabelle must've though Clary would wear the scantily appearing black dress that would have been a tshirt on the much taller girl. Instead, she settled for a white dress that rested mid-thigh.

"You know, Simon's gonna be there." Isabelle muttered as she applied some lipstick. Clary snapped her head towards her, surprised that she'd be attentive to whether or not Simon came. She hadn't even gotten the chance to talk to him yet before Isabelle had invited him to the party!

"He is?" Clary questioned, wondering why Simon would come to a party of the boy he hated. As far as she knew, Simon liked to spend his free time at home watching the oddest of shows and reading even stranger books.

"Yeah, I asked if he'd come with me. But don't worry, I won't ditch you to ride him or anything." Isabelle explained. Clary's mouth unhinged at her words, shocked that her friend could be so vulgar. Though this was the Isabelle who'd she'd grown up with.

"What the hell Izzy?" Clary cried out at the image she'd planted in her mind. She didn't want to think of her two best friends… huffing and puffing over each other. Not Simon, the fragile boy who'd she protected like a mother would a child. Her heart thudded at the thought of Isabelle mounting her baby boy.

"Do you want me to lie and say that I didn't bring protection?" She asked with a raised brow. Clary's mouth hung slack before she shut it angrily and focused on the painting of Isabelle's room. How was she to respond?

"I guess honesty is the best policy." Clary shrugged, messing with the dress that caressed her inner thighs. Usually, wearing white any other time in the year would be awkward with her already milky skin, but spending some time in the sun had given her a tan that turned her skin a light gold. The typical American glow, so to speak.

"Keep that in mind," She commented, reaching for the nail polish. Each minute that passed made Clary regret ever wanting to go to this party. Usually, she'd go out to meet other, much older people, but the only promises this party was making was the fact that everyone there would be under twenty.

"Can we just get this over with and go now?" Clary groaned, flopped back on the bed and spreading her arms and legs wide. Isabelle giggled at the child-like behavior, standing up to look at Clary.

"Depending how you play your cards, you'll end up in that position later." She said emotionlessly. Clary propped herself up using her elbows and scowled at her, which Isabelle stuck her tongue out to.

"Depending how _you_ play your cards, you might want to keep that tongue tucked in to make space." Clary teased, sitting up on the bed and not looking at Isabelle's reaction. The taller girl nudged her with her flat of her palm before standing and looking at herself in the mirror.

"I guess we are ready." Isabelle shrugged, looking at herself in the tight dress and having no shred of happiness for how she had the best of figures. Not that Clary would want it, the look was far too mature for her liking. She wanted to hold onto her youth for as long as she could, and if that meant holding back long legs and heaving breasts, then so be it.

"You guess? Isabelle, you look amazing and I could care less about how I look!" She retorted with a stringing groan, reaching for one of the magazines on the bed spread. Whether her friend was doing anything or not, Clary busied herself with the woman in the magazine, taking notes on their steps to getting ready. She lost track a few times when the woman would flip her hair and finish, missing a few steps as her hair looked perfect. Clary flipped a few pages mindlessly, stopping at one to bug her eyes out.

"Do you think people really try this sex positions?" Clary blurted, looking at the two blue figures and wondering how one would get into such an entanglement of limbs. Clary wasn't the one to be giving a lesson on _morals_ , but the devil himself would have given similar tips! The mattress sunk as Isabelle took a seat beside Clary to see what she was gasping at, covering her mouth with her own hand.

"Actually, I'd like to see that." Isabelle commented, taking the page and ripping it out. Clary stared at her friend with with disbelief before realizing that she was ready.

"I think I'm good to go." Isabelle said, standing up and brushing the impossible dust from her legs and tracing a finger around her lips to take off any smears of her lipstick.

"Yes!" Clary cheered, jumping from the bed with an exhausted smile.

"Wait, there's something we're forgetting," she finished, tapping her jaw with her manicured finger and thinking without any show of emotion. Clary wanted to fall to her knees and sob, but that might give Isabelle another reason to stay and continue to powder makeup upon her already blemish-free skin. If she wanted to, Isabelle could go without the aesthetics and still outshine most of the teenaged girls.

"No…" Clary whimpered, covering her face with her hands. She heard the rustling of fabric and Isabelle's bracelets. Clary tore her hands from her face and stared shocked yet again by Isabelle's actions. "Why are you taking off your underwear?" She blurted. Isabelle flicked her eyes over to Clary in the mirror, smiling at her.

"As slutty as it is, it gives me some weird boost of confidence. Saw it in a magazine." She answered simply. Clary looked for any revelation of amusement in her dark eyes before accepting the fact that her friend wasn't going to wear underwear at the high school party. "Try it if you don't believe me." And seeing Clary's horrified expression, she explained herself. "Look, I'm not saying to pull down some guy's pants and ride him, but it feels risky when I take them off, so I do it."

"You're so weird," Clary sniggered.

* * *

Girls were squealing, raising red solo cups filled with perfume-smelling drinks. Boys were cheering them on, swinging their football jerseys. There was something funny about how free they looked. Or how free they assumed they were. Strange music was playing to fuel their buzz, something more this century. Already was sweat sticking to the foreheads of people, dampening their hair and making their necks slick.

" _This_ is an upperclassmen party." Isabelle whispered, eyeing a few of the juniors that passed her. Clary rolled her eyes at her, sniffing at her drink and wondering if the alcohol was even sold in the US.

"Isabelle, we _are_ upperclassmen." She pointed out with a groan.

"Yeah, for about a _week_. These people are juniors Clary. _Juniors_! That's like… I don't know. Awesome? They're like mature but not-worrying-about-college mature." Yet another thing for her to roll her eyes at.

"Is that supposed to make sense?" Clary asked with a few blinks of her lashes. The cup in Isabelle's hand was already more empty than full, and a growing number of people had offered to fill it for her. More than happy to put something other than… _alcoholic_ beverages in the solo cup. Clary's nose scrunched up at the carnal nature of the teenagers around her.

"We're at a party, nothing's _supposed_ to make sense." Isabelle slurred, tossing the plastic cup on the floor before reaching into a box and taking a bottle of beer. She offered a drink to Clary, shrugging when the redhead objectified. "Oh, Simon!" She giggled at the boy who was cleaning his glasses.

"Uh, hey." Simon choked, smelling the alcohol on her breath. "Are you drunk?" He guffawed, looking at Clary with a scowl.

"And you're not?" Isabelle laughed, running her hand up his chest and resting it on his collar bones. Clary wanted to pull out her phone and record her, but thought better since Isabelle would find some horrible way to get back at her. "Besides, drinking is fun. Gives you the courage to do stuff you wouldn't do sober." She shrugged.

"Like what stuff?" His brows furrowed as he guessed what she was thinking about.

"This stuff." She answered, pulling on the collar of his shirt and crushing her lips to his. Simon stiffened before grabbing the small of her back. Clary's eyes widened when Isabelle jumped and wrapped her legs around his waist, remembering that she had slipped off her panties. Isabelle whispered something to Simon, probably what Clary just realized, and he looked down at her waist.

"Bedrooms upstairs!" Someone shouted at them. Clary began stalking off, walking into the kitchen and looking at the beverage options. She grabbed a cup, not caring just who was drinking it before, and emptied it in one swallow.

"Jesus, not all at once." She heard someone snort. Lowering the cup, she saw the man of the honor himself, Sebastian Verlac.

"I'm doing this to prevent killing my best friend." Clary excused, already looking around her to down more drinks.

"I always did like a girl who could hold her liquor." He sighed, looking at her with interest that she didn't return.

"Okay…?" Clary said before walking backwards and into the living room of his large house.

"Isabelle?" Clary groaned, looking up at the stairs and wondering if she had snuck off with Simon. A few boys whistled at her before she returned a glare at them. When her friend returned, she was so going to kill her many times over. First for bringing her to the damn party, second for not keeping her promise of staying by her side, and finally for having sex in the same building as her! Clary couldn't tell how badly she'd make Isabelle beg for forgiveness, but an eternity sounded like the least she should do.

"Damnit," she growled, prepared to throw the red solo cups at the boys who were gawking at her bare thighs. Some girls were squealing as they drank one-too-many of beers. Honestly, they tasted closer to perfume than an actual beverage. The buzzed teenagers might say otherwise, but they were too far gone to argue with.

The drinks she had hurriedly swallowed were starting to take place in her movements, in her reaction times and thoughts that ticked by.

Clary pulled out her phone, prepared to call her friend before thinking otherwise. Instead, she just sent a message saying that she was going to go home. There was no point in staying at a party that her friend had no mind for, especially while she was getting laid upstairs. Leaving the message section of her phone, Clary swiped the screen a few times to call her older brother.

"Yo?" Jonathan answered languidly.

"Are you _drunk_?" Clary gasped not a second later.

"Nahhh." Jonathan responded with a giggle. If anyone were to know Jonathan, to know _her_ brother, they would know that he _did_ _not_ giggle. The only exception being when he was, well… _drunk_. Or had found some strange powder to sniff, but Jonathan wasn't into drugs. At least that's what she _thought_.

"Yes, you are. You're drunk and probably with that cheerleader, right? Tell me I'm right." Clary snapped at him.

"For your information, I'm not with her! I'm with my _friends_ , at a _party_. You know, that thing people do when they're actually social and not spending every waking moment in their room painting flowers and stuff!" Her brother huffed sassily. Clary rolled her eyes, then stopped when she thought her brother's words over.

"A party? Sebastian's right?" She whispered.

"Yup!" And then her brother hung up, making Clary sprint to the front door to leave without him seeing. Her brother was… _very protective_ of her. There was no telling what he'd do to any of the boys making comments at her, or if he caught one of them staring at her for too long of a second. He'd done it before, and if he had to, he'd do it again. Most of the time though, it was at the older men who stared at her as they shopped for groceries.

As she sprinted, an invisible force collided with her, making her head shake with the tainted flow of alcohol. Surely she hadn't had that much to drink…

"Where are _you_ going?" A boy behind her asked. Clary turned slowly, stifling a scowl before turning it into one of her innocent smiles. Of course, it was just her luck that the man of the honor would catch her leaving his party.

"Home, of course." She answered with a drunken smugness. Sebastian's eyes widened as he grinned at her, and then he was so close that she could smell him. Whatever she had drunk was _definitely_ messing with her perception of the world around her. Her skin was thrumming, and Clary dumbly slapped at her arm to keep it still.

"Like that? No you're not." Sebastian said, placing her arm at her waist as he opened the door for them both. A few boys whistled at him, cheering him on before he shut the door behind them. Clary held back the bile of whatever she drunk and the placement of his hands.

"I can walk home by myself!" She groaned.

"Oh really?" He asked with a raised brow. Clary nodded, stilling her movements once she became dizzy of them. The ground underneath them was vibrating as they walked passed the house and to the direction of her home.

"Yes, and how do you know where I live?" She grumbled.

"I'm friends with your brother." Sebastian answered. Clary scrunched her nose at the powerful smell of New York. _How had she not smelled this before?_ Her thoughts stopped suddenly when she felt Sebastian's arm dip lower on her back, making her eyes pop as he brushed against her rear.

"If you were one of his friends, you wouldn't be doing this." She growled.

"Then I'm not his friend. For all I want to do to you, I can be his _enemy_." Sebastian said with a lust-filled voice. Clary shook her head at him, pushing the boy away with the flat of her palms. If she was strong enough, he'd probably be fazed, but he wasn't. In fact, the action seemed to encourage him further as his hands touched her cloth-covered stomach.

"Stop, _no_. This is _bad_." She croaked as he pushed her against a wall and began to kiss her neck.

"I'm a very, very _bad_ boy." He kissed into her skin, feeling her breast with his hands and grounding himself against her thigh. Her vision was blurring as a few tears dropped from her eyes, some sliding down her cheeks and others dripping from her chin. His hands tore at the neckline of her dress, nearly exposing her breasts.

"Please stop," she sobbed. Sebastian didn't respond as his hands dipped between her thighs, touching her in a place most sacred to her. Her eyes flashed open wide, despite her inebriated state. He could violate her all he wanted, but if anything she wanted to walk away with her purity intact.

"No panties, and you're fucking wet for me. Don't say you don't want this." He growled. Clary bit down on her tongue for her body betraying her as he brushed his fingers around her damp skin. His thighs were separated as he began to unfasten his belt. This might be her one and only chance to thwart his now dangerous advance, so she brought her knee swiftly to his crotch with all the force left in her that the alcohol had drained.

"Oh, come on, you can try harder than _that_ ," Sebastian laughed before angrily bringing the back of his hand to her face. Her cheek hit the brick wall of the building, her whimpering as he flipped her nose against it.

 _"Please, don't do this. Please I don't-"_

"Shut up!" He growled, and she could hear the sliding of his zipper. Now, she was sobbing incessantly, crying for the death of what she treasured. What made her _her_. It was as if someone were to clip the wings of an angel, to toss the halo in a trash bin and set fire to the heavenly glow of them.

His hands were messy as they slid down her back and began to lift her dress. She could hear his legs sliding on the concrete as he tried to steady himself. Small rocks rolled under his shoes before she felt his hands leave her, a thud being heard behind her.

Slowly, she pushed herself from the wall and turned to see him laying down as the result of downing more than a few beers. In that moment, as bad as it sounded, she thanked whomever for illegal ID's and their involvement in teenage drinking. Hell, she even thanked the companies that knocked him flat on the ground. Clary nudged his body with her foot, sighing when he didn't move.

She walked with a limp, counting the abrasions on her hands and knees; using her scraped hands to hold the rip of her dress shut. A few of the homeless people she passed asked if she was alright, but how was she to answer them? She wasn't fine physically or mentally, but she wasn't _raped_? Should she happy? Happy that he only degraded her and not made her his? Sobs cracked in her throat as she thought of what should have happened, what should have been taking place right now if it wasn't for the inebriation of Sebastian. The risk was too present, too real for her to come to terms with.

"This is all your fault…" She croaked at herself, shaking from the chilly air and exposed chest. She tried her best to keep the dress together, but it was getting harder the more the alcohol pumped into her veins. As bad as she was feeling now, she thought that she could stand to use a few drinks. Not literally, no. Instead, she wanted to drink until she couldn't understand herself think. Just to get the memory of his hands on her, of the sound of his zipper sliding down and the smell of his bad choices on his breath…

The burning in her eyes was stinging more because of the smeared makeup, and she angrily wiped at her cheeks, not caring that she was probably pulling out lashes. She didn't want to wait till she got home to wipe the mascara off, she didn't want to wait _period_. She wanted the remnants of the night off, and if that's what she wanted then goddamnit, she was gonna do it. A few times her nails scratched her cheekbones, her fingers also sticking to her cheeks as the makeup stained their ivory complections. Clary groaned impatiently, using her inner arm to wipe and getting no better result. With a final scream, she figured her tears were better at washing the stupid mascara off.

Her feet would stumble on the crack in the concrete, and a few cars honked at her reckless appearance. With shaky hands and numb fingers, she brought out her phone and slid down her contacts, scrolling to the J's and pressing on her brother's name. After a few rings, he answered.

"Jonathan, can you pick me up?" She sobbed, feeling her legs sway. "I'm by the… the place that reads palms. _Dorothea's._ God, hurry up. My- my dress is ripped-" The phone slid down her numb hands and to the concrete, where she joined it.

She started to sob, feeling the concrete dampen under her. Her skin was raw from the impact it had faced from the walls of buildings she had gripped onto and the sidewalk. Her head was pounding with guilt for letting herself drink more than what she was capable. But more than anything, she felt shameful for letting Sebastian get so close to her, for not telling _someone_ where she was going or… anything! She felt like if she had been more careful, smart, everything that she wasn't doing now, that the events prior would have happened.

Lights burned into her eyes. The lights of an approaching car. Her heart leapt forward, scared and hopeful of the person in the car. Jonathan was going to be so ashamed of her, even more so than Clary felt at herself. So she closed her eyes, not caring that they were still red with the blasting headlights and burning with salty tears.

Sand crunched at the approaching person, and the lights were no longing shining on her as their shadow blocked the beams. Her prickled skin began to smoothen out at the thought of being safe again. Her sobs were now reduced to whimpering, hopeful if they could be, eager that she could finally go to her warm home and sleep the horrible weekend away.

"Holy shit, are you… are you okay?" A man, not Jonathan but still familiar, asked. He stretched out his hand to her, and realizing she wouldn't lift herself up, he reached down and lifted her to a standing position.

"Jonathan?" She groaned, nuzzling into his chest. Though she knew it wasn't her brother, she didn't have the strength to speak a full sentence. One word was as much energy she was going to use as far as sentences went.

"I thought we were on a first name basis?" He chuckled, holding her tighter to him, though she didn't mind. She wanted to be closer to this man than the boy lying on the sidewalk.

" ...Jace?" Clary whispered, finally opening her green eyes wide enough and looking up into golden ones. His were wide with worry for her. She realized that she must've called him instead of Jonathan when she scrolled through her contacts, and surprisingly a blush didn't shine on her cheeks.

"God, you must be cold." He said, shucking off the jacket of his black suit and covering her bare shoulders with it. His hands paused, looking at her ripped dress, then lifting his gaze up to her with a concerned question in his eyes. Clary let a few tears race down her cheeks, too scared to answer in the fear that she'd break into sobs and embarrass herself. Jace nodded his head, buttoning the jacket to cover her chest.

She didn't smile or show any emotions, just leaned into his arms once he was finished.

* * *

 **AN: I honestly don't have a comment for this chapter, even though a _lot_ happened in it! What do you guys think? **

**Tell me in the reviews!**


	4. Vague Answers And Amazing Views

_"No panties, and you're fucking wet for me. Don't say you don't want this." He growled. Clary bit down on her tongue for her body betraying her as he brushed his fingers around her damp skin. His thighs were separated as he began to unfasten his belt. This might be her one and only chance to thwart his now dangerous advance, so she brought her knee swiftly to his crotch with all the force left in her that the alcohol had drained._

 _"Oh, come on, you can try harder than that," Sebastian laughed before angrily bringing the back of his hand to her face. Her cheek hit the brick wall of the building, her whimpering as he flipped her nose against it._

"Please, don't do this. Please I don't-"

 _"Shut up!" He growled, and she could hear the sliding of his zipper. Now, she was sobbing incessantly, crying for the death of what she treasured. What made her her. It was as if someone were to clip the wings of an angel, to toss the halo in a trash bin and set fire to the heavenly glow of them..._

"Clary?" Someone spoke up, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. She stirred in the amazingly comfortable bed, not wanting to wake up and face the pounding headache or burning of her raw skin.

"No… let me _sleep_." Clary groaned, burying her head in the pillow under her. The person laughed, making her head pulse with pain and a tremendous amount of regret. Regret, and immediately her hands flew to her chest to cover it, reminded that a man had covered her whereas a boy ripped at the dress. Her palms cried out in pain as they met with the material of what she realized was the jacket that he had covered her with.

Slowly, she tore open her eyes, reaching out across the bed to snatch at the grey covers. The man was no longer talking to her, just watching as she steadied her racing thoughts and sat up in what she presumed was his bed. Her eyes flitted over to him, widening slightly at his radiant appearance.

"Jace?" She whispered, scared to come to terms with what had happened the night before. He visibly swallowed, taking a seat at the edge of the bed, still watching her with his nervously observant eyes. He must think she's a drunk, or a whore for having the front of her dress wide open for the entirety of New York to see. Must think that she wanted Sebastian to touch her, after all, her body sure did.

"Are you alright?" Jace asked her, his fingers scooting a little closer to her near-trembling fingers. Clary didn't know if she should nod or shake her head or break down in front of him. She had done a good job the night before, being silent as he drove them to… _his house?_ Oh, God, she didn't even know where she _was_! Her family would be so ashamed at her behaviour. Jonathan would yell at her for being alone with a man, while Jocelyn would have sobbed and asked what she had done wrong as a mother. Luke would have shook his head, speaking of how he was disappointed in her.

"I - I…" She started, her throat catching her and all she could manage was a few croaks before her eyes were stinging and her face was wet with long-held tears. She buried her face in her hands, wiping at the tears. Jace began to reach out to her before she gently pushed him back. "I will be. I'll be alright." Clary spoke, blinking away the salty tears. Sunlight shined on his face to show how different it was compared to his flirtatious self. This was him, caring for her like she had wanted and done for him. This was him putting her at the center of his world. Even if it was for the short moments that passed along into the growing day.

"Can you tell me what happened last night? You were pretty… shaky. And I'm sure your dress wasn't bought looking like _that_." Jace said, gesturing at the covered half of her white dress, now ruined by that horrible boy who was probably bragging about getting in her pants, or in this case _dress_. She knew that he would talk about her lack of panties, who she whimpered in what he swore was want instead of a pleading for him to let her go. He would say how she teased him with her innocent nature instead of her drunken stumbling.

"A party, I was at a party with a friend. She'd practically begged me to go with her. When we got there, she got tipsy, heading off with one of our friends." Clary sucked in a breath, nervous to describe what happened next, but Jace was patient, his eyes never leaving hers. "I decided to leave, so I texted her and called my brother- but he was drunk. Walking seemed like the best option-"

"Do you know the man that did this?" He blurted, his fists visibly clenching on the bed sheets. She wanted to correct him, to say that he was a boy, and she was a girl also, but she didn't want Jace to leave her. So she nodded. She thought that his anger would lessen with knowing that they could make an arrest, but it only intensified. Maybe because when it comes to knowing someone, one would expect trust to follow. At the very least to know that someone would force themselves on them.

"He offered to walk me home and I don't know if I had too much to drink, or if he put something in it, but I couldn't shake him off…" She trailed, biting at her lower lip and hoping he'd let her leave with just that. Jace was looking at her like she was broken beyond repair. One thing she hated to see was pity. She got enough of that when her father had died, and didn't want to see anymore of it now.

"Are you alright?" He asked, unsure how to form the words of _rape_ and _violation_. She was glad though, she didn't want to have to describe what the boy had done to her. How his hands had grasped and tore at her white dress. How he had stuck his hands between her legs and told her of how her body was betraying her and passed it off as her lying to him. She could imagine going to school and seeing groups of people stare at her, whispering about how she was the girl that had allowed Sebastian Verlac to take her against a wall, when she hadn't and would much rather throw him into a shallow grave that she'd dug along the dirty highways of her home state.

"You took me to your … house?" She asked, deciding to change to subject. The room she was in was large, with windows taking up one wall and showing her what New York looked like once someone had gotten past the pollution and cracked sidewalks. The floor was made up of a white carpet, only being covered by a black dresser and the king-sized bed she was resting in. The room was relatively clean, as opposed to what her brothers room looked like. No paintings hung on the walls, making her wonder if this was a hotel of some sort. And a fancy one at that. The kind that Jocelyn stayed at when she travelled for work.

"Apartment." He corrected with a smile and shake of his head at how she was ignoring the question he'd asked her. "I didn't know where you lived, so I hoped you wouldn't mind that I brought you here. And I couldn't just _leave_ you there on the streets." Jace's face scrunched up in disgust before smoothing out to its cool state.

"Thank you," she said softly. He could have let her be the distraught mess on the floor like a New York hooker. A passed out woman on the sidewalk, free for anyone to claim her. But he didn't, couldn't. It made her heart flutter that he had a light to him. A light that compelled him to help out others, because she could not claim him to her when she'd only known him for a small amount of time, and began talking to him a fraction of that time.

"Don't thank me yet," he began. "Not until I find the man that did this to you and…" He took a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair so as to calm himself. Her hand ran over the sheets and brushed against his. Jace looked up at her with a struggling expression. "Did he…?" The words drifted into the crisp air for her to reach.

"No," she answered honestly. But that didn't mean Sebastian hadn't violated her. Not in the slightest. Jace's face showed some sign of relief, but the anger still lingered.

"Just say the word and I'll take you to the station so we can file a report." Jace offered. Her eyes widened, wondering what would happen if he knew the man that had attacked her was in fact a boy, and she was only _sixteen_.

Thankfully, a phone rang and interrupted her future struggle over words. Her eyes turned to the nightstand where it was ringing and realized that it was hers. The caller ID showed that it was Isabelle calling her. Oh, God, she was probably worried sick! Unless she had read the message Clary had left for her.

"Uh, I'll let you answer that." Jace said, standing up and nearly walking out of the room before turning to her. "I'll prepare us some breakfast," and then he was gone.

The phone's ringing had cut off, then started again. Clary scrambled to the edge of the bed and snatched it from the expensive-looking nightstand, swiping her hand across the screen and placing the phone not so close to her ear to prepare for the screaming of her probably frightened friend.

"Clary!" Isabelle cried out, her voice being distorted by the phone for being so high-pitched and loud. Clary winced as her friend sobbed with what she assumed was relief. "Oh thank _God_ you are alright." She sighed.

"Yeah, thank God." Clary muttered. "Why are you so panicked? Didn't you see the message I sent you?" She asked Isabelle.

"Message?" Isabelle asked in what was clearly confusion. There was a moment's pause before she began again. "Your brother told the police you weren't at home, and I had to tell them that you went to the party with me. And then word came out that you had left with Sebastian… Clary, do you know how worried you had me? Had everyone?" She whispered, her voice cracking to reveal vulnerability.

"You called the police?!" Clary gasped, grimacing and reminding herself to keep her voice down. _Had her friend really have been so frightened as to do that?_ _To have a report sent of her disappearance?_ There had been times when Clary had walked home when Isabelle had wandered off in a mall or party such as the previous one. Yet, Isabelle had never called the police. Though, with Clary not being home and the thought of a dark night in New York was chilling enough.

"No, they were… _looking_ _for you._ " Isabelle said grimly. Clary's brows furrowed as she wondered why the authorities were looking for her. There was nothing she could have done that would have rendered her in trouble. If anything, she was to report to them of an assault. The only thing she could consider a possibility was the teenage drinking, but they hadn't actually _caught_ her at the party for that. And Isabelle would be in jail as well.

"Looking for me? Why would they be looking for me?" She asked with her voice high and panicked. The long pause over the phone made her nearly lose her sanity. _Why wouldn't her friend answer her?!_

"Something… happened. And they want to take you in for questioning." She vaguely explained. Her small hints and clues only made Clary frustrated, even more so than she already was knowing that the police were looking for her.

"Isabelle, tell me what happened." Clary nearly growled at her friend. Best friend, who, at the moment, was beginning to get on her nerves with her vagueness. She hadn't noticed, but looking down could she see her nails go purple with a festering anxiety and a chilling to her heard that made her begin to quiver. She heard Isabelle sob over the phone, saying things she couldn't decipher. "Wait, what did you say? I couldn't understand." Clary asked.

"Clary - Sebastian…" Isabelle sobbed hard, allowing Clary to hear her quick breaths as her nerves let loose. Clary could say the same as she felt her body tremble at the name of the evil boy who had tried to take what was precious to her. Who tried to force himself on her. "He's… _dead_." Isabelle croaked.

* * *

 **AN: And the plot thickens...**

 **Some much needed apologies for the wait of this chapter! I've been so distracted with other things (stories, life...) I haven't been in the right mindset as to sit down and right the chapter, but writer's block doesn't necessarily have a schedule. Sorry for the short chapter, but this is more of a filler one for the following chapter. Oh, and sorry for the grammar errors! Kinda wrote this in one sitting...**

 **Tell me what you think in the reviews!**


	5. Ave Atque Vale

**AN: I really don't have much to say about this chapter, so I just wrote the authors note up here. Tell me what you think when you're done reading and kick ass in the reviews!**

* * *

"Your Honor, my client has never been convicted of a crime before the incident." The lawyer spoke with a pleading tone. The judge rolled his eyes, squinting at the lawyer who stood proudly next to the blond. The lawyer bit her lip nervously, looking down and showing weakness that would prove her to lose the battle of lowering the price of bail. Clary was on the edge of her seat, watching the scene take place. It hadn't even been a few weeks and already there was talk of a plea bargain. The boy she saw sitting next to the lawyer was one she hadn't seen before. His hair was unkempt as he would continuously run his hands through it. Or, was, probably. He'd been spending his nights in jail, having to talk to his family through a bulletproof wall.

"The price you are asking for is nothing more than unpaid taxes and clearly out of my client's price range." The woman argued. _Oh, God,_ was this what was going to become of her days for the remainder of the year? Spending each one of them in a courthouse and detailing what had taken place on a street her mind had made fuzzy? It was already passed around that her brother was some kind of caveman. The girls that she had talked to now gave her terrified glances as if she'd send her brother after them. A few boys gave the same, while some would make obscene gestures due to the fact that her brother had no say against it. She missed him dearly. More than she ever thought possible.

Constantly was she reminded that this was all her fault. Clary's mother would cry softly in her room… _all the time._ More than once, Jocelyn had asked her daughter why she didn't just stay home. What she was wearing that night. That her dress was going to put her brother in prison. Luke would always sit silently, not having the strength to silence his distraught wife. Clary needed her mother now more than ever, but received a shoulder colder than an arctic winter. Where was the feminist woman that had raised her? This woman was just as bigoted as the boys at school. The only people that hadn't judged her were Isabelle and Simon. And _him._ But the subject was to painful to think about.

"Say what you want, Mrs. Branwell, the incident you speak of is _murder._ How foolish would do you make me out to be?" The judge growled. Mrs. Branwell looked at Jonathan sympathetically before turning her gaze back to the elderly judge. Jocelyn was already sobbing, Luke holding onto her like he could keep her emotional stability intact. His hand was gripping Clary's shoulder tightly as he awaited the price of his stepson's freedom. This was probably going to be the _only_ time he touched her for the time being. He looked at her like she were going to shatter in front of him. So vulnerable, when in fact she was the strongest out of all her family.

"His parents earn enough to pay the bail. Do you agree?" The judge asked with a coldness to his gaze. Jocelyn gasped, holding Luke tighter while scowling at her daughter with water eyes. Clary bowed her head, not wanting to upset her mother any further, even if she didn't think it was possible. She hadn't seen Jocelyn this upset then when her father was mention. Well, upset was a wrong way to put it… more like saddened. Her mother was probably going to rant about how she was going to pay a large sum of money because her daughter couldn't keep her dress at knee length. Something like that, Clary was sure.

"Yes, your Honor." Jonathan was tapping his fingers on the wooden table where he sat. Clary wanted so badly to hug the fear out of him like he'd do to her whenever she was _this_ scared. Clary couldn't imagine what her brother was going through. All because of her…

"Well then, bail is set at five-hundred thousand…" The rest of the man's words drained from Clary's ears as she felt a numbing sensation to her limbs and - eventually - heart. She watched Jonathan grow paler than the impossible while there was an uproar in the court that consisted of both Sebastian's family and her own. Jonathan turned around quickly, reaching over and pulling on Clary to hug her to him.

She felt the fear radiating off of him as they clung to each other. Her big brother… the soon-to-be felon. _Oh, Jonathan,_ she thought as she shut her eyes tightly. He smelled of cheap soap and the mint gum his lawyer had given him to calm down. His hands were at her sides, wrinkling her clothes as he practically held her against him. Jonathan was breathing so hard against her neck; hyperventilating. Like Jocelyn, he only reacted this strongly when he thought of their father.

Tears smudged the nape of her neck as her brother was stiff against her. She could do nothing to assure him that it would get better. She couldn't apologize enough for ruining the remainder of his life. Possibly shortening it with the violence that occurred in prisons.

"I'm so _sorry_." She whispered, not giving in to the tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. Clary felt Jonathan nod, making her hair scratch at her chin. Suddenly, his hands were under her arms, pushing her back with a force that made her curls fly at her sides. She stared up at him with terrified green eyes, begging him to stay longer but knowing he could do no such thing. He cupped the back of her head, moving close to press his lips to her forehead without any reassurance that they were going to make it through this without falling apart. That their family wasn't going to suffer greatly for their actions. As he stood straight, there was a shining contentment in his dark eyes that made her gasp.

" _You,"_ Clary heard her mother snarl. Jocelyn had her fingers digging into Luke's leather jacket with a look of pure _hatred._ And for her own daughter! It looked like her stepfather was holding her mother back as Jocelyn's feet dug into the tile floor of the courthouse. There were deep, deep shadows under her mother's eyes. Shadows that _she_ had put there. Again, Clary bowed her head in shame.

"Mother, stop it." She heard Jonathan snap. Clary lifted her head in shock, gazing at her brother with a frightened curiosity. Jonathan was never one to speak up against their mother, probably because of him looking so much like their father that it cut deep at her. Now, though, he looked at her the same way she'd been looking at Clary: disgust. "Did you forget that _I'm_ the one being arrested? Or are you too angry at your daughter - _who was sexually assaulted -_ to realize that?" He growled before turning to the officer at his side. "Taking me away before I say something I regret." Jonathan told the man before having his wrists cuffed.

* * *

"Jesus fuck, Jocelyn! He was trying to _protect his sister!"_ Luke shouted as his wife from across the kitchen table. Jocelyn was angrily washing the dishes, not caring that the water was scalding as she dipped her hands in the sink. Clary was sitting on the first few steps of the stairs, watching them and waiting for one to blame her. Or, start blaming her again.

"He should have _protected_ her by keeping her at home!" Jocelyn snapped back, turning away from the kitchen sink and throwing a mug at her husband. It sailed past his head and hit the south wall of the large room, smashing a framed drawing of Clary's. "If she wasn't dressed like a Brooklyn whore, than maybe he would still have his life together!" And there it was again, the blame that she'd ended her brother's life. Which she did, but it didn't make hearing the words any better. "Honestly, Luke, how can you not see it?!" She shrieked. Her stepfather was pulling at the ends of his hair, biting back a temper that rarely made an appearance.

"Our daughter was sexually assaulted, and yet you have no compassion for her. No sympathy at all." Luke shook his head in disgust, turning to walk out of the room. Though, Jocelyn wasn't ready to end the fight just yet.

"I was a sixteen year old girl once too, Lucian." It shocked Clary that her mother used his first name. She only used it when… things got _really_ bad. "She may wear white, but she's no virgin Mary." Luke muttered that he was going to get his son, while Jocelyn screamed at him. Clary couldn't take it anymore, she was tired of hearing her mother insult her.

"You're supposed to be my _mother_ , the woman on _my side!"_ Clary shouted as she trudged down the steps. Jocelyn laughed at her daughter, pivoting and walking to the cabinets where she pulled out an amber liquid designed for someone who had a better hold on their mental stability. "What the hell happened that made you hate me?!" She growled. Clary watched her mother drink straight from the glass bottle, wiping her lips with the back of her sleeve and scowl at her redheaded daughter.

"You may hate me, Clarissa Adele. Soon though, you'll hate yourself just as much. You'll see how your brother won't see the outside of a prison fence because you had the audacity to act like a harlot." Her mother sneered.

"Shut up!" Jocelyn's hand connected to her cheek the moment the words fled her mouth. Some of her hair that had been pulled back in her bun fell loose, framing her face and making her appear disheveled. Her mother's face was reddened with anger and disappointment. Her hands were shaking from the sleeping pills and lack of food. This woman was the polar opposite of her mother, and it was truly her fault. The picture perfect family had shattered because of her.

"Go to your fucking room." She snarled.

And that's how her evening went.

She lay in bed, a red handprint on her cheek and sobbing softly in bed. Her eyes felt heavy, but her stomach felt light without eating dinner. None of them had really eaten anything since her brother's arrest anyway. All she wanted to do now was take out her phone and call the one person that hadn't shown her cruelty. Even Isabelle, her best friend, had acted like a stranger. Clary hadn't talked to _him_ since then. He probably heard of the case over the news and didn't wanted to associate with her anymore.

Someone opened her bedroom door, taking a few steps in and pausing. Clary figured it was Luke coming to apologize for Jocelyn's behavior.

"Clary?" A familiar voice whispered. Hearing it made her fling herself from the bed and into his arms, weeping into his shoulder. His hand rested between the blades of her back as she wrapped her legs around him and cried out that she missed him. Even if they'd seen each other what had to be a few hours ago.

"Jon, I'm so _sorry_." She began to repeat, holding him and fearing that she'd fall apart without her other half. He rested his chin on her head, lightly joking that she was going to smear her mascara. "What are we going to do?" She whimpered.

"We?" Jonathan asked her. " _You're_ going to continue on with your life, and maybe forgive for what I've done." Clary shook her head in confusion, not understanding what he had to apologize for.

"What do you mean, Jon? I ruined your life. You'll never find someone, get married or have children. It's all gone _because of me_." She croaked, beginning to sob again at the realization. He hummed his rejection because apparently that wasn't what he was talking about.

"No, dear sister. Because of me, you will never be a normal girl again. People will whisper about that boy who… _touched you._ " His face contorted into a grimace as he thought about Sebastian. "Forget about me. I was doomed to be the screw up of this family." Jonathan said remorsefully.

"Forget you? You're my brother. It's _impossible_ to forget you. You're my other half." She promised, clinging to him tighter. And after that, he was crying with her, dragging them both to the floor where they still remained with a tight grip on each other. He whispered about how scared he was, how he didn't know what the inside of prison was like. She told him that she didn't know how she would wake up every morning knowing what she'd made him do. Each time he swore that he acted alone, that he was doing what any brother would have done. That the boy deserved what he had coming to him. Both of them talked about a life without one another, without greeting each other everyday like they always did. Jonathan stilled for a moment, thinking deeply while she buried her head into his chest.

"I… I'm going to run." He suddenly spoke, startling her. Clary pulled back from him, astonished at what he had just said. How _insane_ he was for just saying it.

"What, Jonathan, _no._ They'll hunt you down with guns and hounds if you do!" She cried out, grabbing the collar of his shirt and shaking him. He wiped his damp face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I'm _not going to jail_ because of killing someone who didn't deserve the life he was given. I'm not going to spend the rest of my days in a prison cell because of him. No, I won't do it, Clarissa." Jonathan said, his jaw set tight in permanence. She looked at him as if he had lost his goddamn mind.

"N-NO!" She stuttered out. "How can I live my life without my brother?! Without you I'm all alone, nobody on my side!" Jonathan had that look in his eyes that told her he was thinking again.

"Run with me."

She slapped him.

"Stop saying stuff like that! Mom and Dad will hear you and take you back to jail. Especially Mom, she's off her goddamn rocker… Jonathan, you - you can't leave me like this. This can't be your goodbye." She gasped. Her brother shook his head, smoothing down her hair and tucking it behind her ear.

"We can run away. I can drain my bank account and make a living from there on. _We can still be brother and sister, Clary."_ He promised. His dark eyes were full of ambition, of a future that she was scared to believe in. Without him, there was no one. He was the brother that had practically raised her while their mother and Luke were out working. There was no assurance that Jocelyn would ever go back to her old self. That Isabelle would start talking to her again, or that the people at school or anywhere else would stop staring at her strangely. And there was no guarantee that _he_ would want to see her again. Jonathan was right about her not being able to be a normal girl again. So, what girl would she be if she ran away with him? Of course, their case hadn't gone national, so as long as they ventured away from New York, they'd be fine. Well, not _fine,_ but had a good chance at starting over. Life would be hard, he'd have to get a job and she as well. They'd have no education and none of their wealth. It would just be Morgenstern and Fairchild… probably not considering they'd get arrested right away with those names. Was it even worth it? Worth running away with her brother because without him there was a gaping hole in her life where he should be.

The answer was yes, it was.

"Okay."


End file.
